Nobody Wins
by IllustratedGirl
Summary: Screws fall out all the time. The world's an imperfect place.
1. Chapter 1

I wish Suit's were my brainchild. It isn't.

_Author's Note: When I started writing this, it was a one shot. Fifteen pages and six thousand words later, it's a (finished) several chapter story. I just feel like posting it as one piece is a grossly long chunk of text. I'll probably post all the chunks tonight, though. Also, fair warning, if you're not prepared for me to play evilly upon your emotions, or if you've been dumped recently, I wouldn't suggest reading this._

* * *

Mike fought the urge to stand. He forced his shoulders to stay slumped in relaxation, his hips tucked forward, spine curled comfortably into the couch. It tickled a thought in the back of his head that he also tried to push away. But, it being Mike's brain and all, it stuck. He taught you to do that, it nagged at him, like a child blowing a raspberry. He taught you to react and physically back up your point. He swallowed it away and continued his reasonable argument.

"I'm not getting rid of the bike, Harvey."

Harvey had started by making a casual remark here and there weeks before. Tossed carelessly into the midst of a conversation as they climbed out of the town car, or masquerading as Harvey's opening one liner when Mike pulled up in the morning, pant leg tucked into his sock and helmet strapped securely under his chin.

Something like "Nice ride," with the twitch of a brow. Or "nice not to show up sweaty to a meeting, isn't it?" as they said goodbye to Ray.

Mike had simply started replying to every comment with "I'm not getting rid of the bike, Harvey."

Flatly. Not open for discussion.

Mike _loved_ his bike. It was certainly a nicer bike than the one he had when he started at Pearson-Hardman. It was safer. The brakes _always_ worked.

It was also faster, cheaper, healthier, more eco-friendly, and frankly Mike just loved to ride the goddamn thing.

But this was not an off-hand comment. They were sitting on Harvey's couch, watching a movie. The man's feet were in his friggin' lap, for Christ's sake when Harvey announced: "I want you to get rid of the bike."

"I'm not getting rid of the bike." Mike's reply had been swift and final as he twitched and then stayed in his seat, winning his silent battle.

"It's dangerous, and I don't like it," Harvey answered, equally as confidant, and not missing Mike's flinch for a second.

"To be perfectly honest with you, Harvey, I don't care whether or not you like it. It's my decision. I can respect that you're uncomfortable with it, but you're going to have to learn to live with it," Mike stated calmly. Harvey's feet swung to the floor and he leaned forward to snatch the remote, pausing the movie.

"Don't use phrases like 'to be honest,' it makes it seem like you weren't being honest before," Harvey lectured absently, never one to miss an opportunity to tell Mike how to behave.

"Mike," Harvey's refocused, his bare forearms rested on his knees, hands clasped between, "I'm looking out for your well-being. I don't want you to get hurt."

"And I don't want to get hurt, Harvey, but shit happens," Mike shot back, although he kept his posture neutral, still facing Harvey's absurd flatscreen.

"A car is safer. You can afford the car service now, use it," Harvey insisted, leveling Mike with a cool stare the younger man could feel through his skin.

"The only time I need to use the car service is with you, for meetings. And that's expensed, so don't talk to me about 'affording it,'" Mike snapped, even as he struggled to control it, "And from an engineering standpoint, a car really isn't safer."

Harvey's eyes narrowed.

"Don't talk to you? I'm trying to explain why you're being stupid." Harvey knew it was crass, but he said it anyway.

Mike lost it. He flew up off the couch, one balled fist barely missing the tip of Harvey's nose as he shot to his feet.

"I'm not fucking stupid, Harvey. You, of all _goddamn_ people know I'm not stupid!" Mike shouted, storming around the apartment. He yanked his shirt on, finding one shoe beside the coffee table. He shoved his foot into it and turned in circles looking for the other one.

"I didn't say you were stupid!" Harvey yelled back, cringing at how childish he sounded, "I said you were _being_ stupid. Don't put words in my mouth!"

"Where the FUCK is my shoe?" Mike didn't even hear him, listing around the apartment in search of his rogue footwear.

"You're just going to leave, then? You think you're going to get away with raising your voice at me and storming out like a teenager?" Harvey was on his feet, though he refused to trail Mike around the apartment.

"You're screaming right back!" Mike paused in his quest to spit a rejoinder at Harvey, his lips twisted into a furious grimace.

"Oh, it's under the goddamn couch, Mike!" Harvey had had enough, bending to scrape Mike's sneaker from beneath the low slung leather sofa. He flung it at Mike.

"Thank you," Mike growled as he pulled his shoe on. He stopped just long enough in his storm out of Harvey's apartment to snatch his bike from the rack on the wall.

As soon as the door slammed shut, Harvey dropped back onto the couch.


	2. Chapter 2

Insert standard disclaimer about not owning Suits here.

At work the next morning, everything was normal. Well, as normal as life ever was at Pearson-Hardman. Mike was searching through documents to find some obscure fact for Harvey, and Harvey was in his office, composing an argument.

Mike's phone rang.

"Mike Ross," he answered immediately, tucking the receiver against his shoulder.

"Harvey wants to see you," Donna informed him, "Now."

"Be right there." Mike hung up, dropped his highlighter, and strode down to Harvey's office. He knocked before he went in. Harvey glanced up and a vague look that was darker than surprise crossed his face before he waved Mike in.

"Something's come up," Harvey announced, "Whatever you're working on needs to be put aside."

"What happened?" Mike flopped into the seat Harvey gestured at.

"The president, CEO, and founder of Quimby Athletic Equipment died in a plane crash this morning," Harvey began, and Mike gasped.

"Roger Milfore's dead?" He'd been one of Mike's favorite clients since the night he and Harvey signed him. Third base line tickets at Yankee Stadium.

"Yes, Mike. And there's a scrabble for control of the company. It's going to get ugly," Harvey sat back in his chair, and Mike saw the muscles in his jaw relax as his brain ran off, running endless scenarios in his head.

"Who're the top players?" Mike's question brought Harvey back to the present.

"His actual son, David Milfore. The VP and the man Roger taught everything he knew, Scott Hess, whom the other top brass at the company back. And last but not least, Roger's estranged wife Margret," Harvey ticked off on his fingers as Mike's brain whirred.

"Well, what does the will say?"

Harvey unleashed a wolf like smirk.

"You know Roger. The man always loved a good fight," A memory flashed through Harvey's eyes, "His will specifically states to let them battle it out, and may the best man, with the best lawyer, win."

Mike wanted to be shocked, but really it wasn't surprising in the least. In fact it seemed fairly tame for the man who walked into Yankee Stadium in a Red Sox cap. He would argue about with anybody about _anything._

Harvey loved the guy.

"So... then who do we represent?" Mike cocked an eyebrow. Harvey's smirk only widened.

"The one that wins," Harvey replied. Mike rolled his eyes.

"We're contracted to Quimby, so we support whomever the company supports."

"Scott Hess it is, then," Mike was on his feet again.

"Find me precedent," Harvey dismissed him and turned back to his computer.

* * *

Eleven hours later found Mike at in the library, with only a few scrapes of case law beginning to apply. The office was deserted, Rachel having abandoned him an hour before with only a friendly pat on the shoulder as consolation.

"What have you found me?" Harvey strolled into the room, like there was nothing at all odd about him being in the office at 10 p.m.

"Not much," Mike admitted. "At this rate, Hess is going to have to agree to some seriously hefty settlements to keep running that company."

"We don't bribe people, Mike," Harvey stood over Mike's shoulder, staring at the pages on the table, "We meet with Hess in the morning, and we need something to show him."

Harvey shrugged off his suit jacket, hung it precisely from the back of a chair, and sat down.

"Bring me up to speed."

Mike launched into a semi-concise summary of every semi-applicable case he'd been through that day. Listening to his associate talk, Harvey settled in for a long night.

"Stop doing that," Mike ordered two hours later, as Harvey yanked yet another sheaf of paper from his hands. Mike snatched it back.

"I need it," Harvey attempted to grab the papers, but Mike jerked them out of his reach. Harvey's feet thudded to the floor from where he'd propped them on an extra chair as he overreached.

"Well, I'm _reading_ it, so why don't you just ask me your question and I'll use the brain you hired me for and just _tell you_," Mike argued, tipping back in his chair to resume his reading.

"I don't need the perfect recall of a line, Mike. I need the gist of it. The feeling," Harvey held his hand out expectantly.

"There are no feelings in the law."

"Just give me the decision statement, Mike."

"No." Mike knew it was spiteful to refuse, but he did it anyway. He was tired, having slept poorly, a person that he cared for was dead, and thought it definitely had absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with his current tone of voice, he was still mad at Harvey.

He was pissed as hell.

"Why are you so stubborn all the time? I need my accommodating associate right now, not my petulant boyfriend," Harvey groused, resisting the urge to push at Mike's shin with his foot and send the kid toppling over.

"Was I your accommodating associate or your petulant boyfriend the first time you threw me up against the wall in your office and shoved your tongue down my throat?" Mike sniped. The legs of his chair thudded to the floor as if he'd read Harvey's mind.

"Neither. Then you were the beginning of a one night stand," Harvey remarked coldly, "Sometimes I think it's a pity it didn't turn out that way. At least then your shame would keep you quiet."

Mike blinked. He'd known what he was getting into that night, and had accepted the fact because the idea of pushing Harvey away had been unbearable. He'd also known that Harvey was a condescending asshole at the best of moments, and this was in no way his best moment. Still, he'd never known Harvey to be so purposefully, unnecessarily _cruel._ Mike got to his feet, tossed the offending document in front of Harvey, and stalked towards the door.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Harvey was incredulous, "We have a meeting in the morning."

"No," Mike half turned as he shoved the door open, "_You_ have a meeting in the morning. I'm sure after this you won't let me attend it. Give Hess my condolences."

"So this is just what you do now?" Harvey's booming voice followed him down the hall, "you leave?'

Mike half entertained the idea that Harvey would come after him as he gathered his bag and waited for the elevator. He didn't, of course. He had three times the work to do now.


	3. Chapter 3

Not Mine. Don't sue.

* * *

It took Mike longer than usual to get himself out of bed on Friday. Meaning, of course, that instead of popping up the second his alarm went off, he lay there staring at the ceiling and giving himself a "don't get fired" pep talk for fifteen minutes before he rose.

After he arrived at the office, he went straight to his desk. It took Donna all of thirty seconds to show up.

"Are you avoiding me?" she asked prettily, folding her arms along the top of the cubicle wall and resting her chin.

"No, Donna," Mike sighed, looking up from the brief Louis had left him for proofing.

"I know, I was just checking. Harvey's angry. I'm not exactly pleased," Donna raised her brows at him and Mike just sighed again.

"Don't sigh at me, Michael. He called me a 5 this morning having woken up on a table in the library, desperately in need of a fresh suit. Contrary to popular belief, I do need rest to look this good. So does he, apparently. He looks like crap. Why are you fighting?" Donna probed, peering down at him.

"The night before last he started in on the bike thing and we had an argument," Mike began, and then paused. When Donna gestured for him to continue, he hemmed, "I don't know if this is any of your busi-"

"Five a.m., Michael."

"Yeah, right, right. Okay. So we had a disagreement. Whatever, you know? I slept on it, moved on, fine, cool. Everything was copacetic. He stuck around to help me research, which was great. Until he started being all... _himself_ and grabbing without asking, not to mention being generally distracting. It is actually not as easy as it looks to read two hundred pages an hour without focus. And then, words were exchanged," Mike finished vaguely, turning back to his paperwork.

"Words were exchanged. That's what I get? Words were exchanged. You're gonna have to do better than that, Mike," Donna challenged, coming around the wall to perch on his desk.

"Words were exchanged. And then he said he wished our relationship had stayed a one night stand so shame would keep my mouth shut. And I left," Mike elaborated, eyes never leaving the pages in front of him. Beside him, Donna went still.

"Don't get involved. Please, Donna. It'll get worked out, just don't say anything to him," Mike mumbled to his brief.

"No," Donna's voice was hard, "Nobody talks to you like that. Not even Harvey. _Especially_ not Harvey. Why don't you go get some lunch, hmm? Avoid the hot dog cart, Harvey will be back any minute."

Mike wanted to refuse, to stay and make sure she didn't meddle. Instead he found himself getting to his feet.

"Yeah, all right."

* * *

All Harvey wanted to do after the Hess meeting was put his head down on his desk and take a nap. He remembered finally, brilliantly, coming up with a strategy somewhere around 3 a.m. He didn't remember crawling on a table and passing out, but that's where he woke up two hours later to the shrill of the alarm on his phone.

Donna had graciously supplied him with a new suit after he found his spare was nowhere to be found. He was going to owe her for that, of course. He'd made it through the meeting relatively unscathed, but Hess had made it clear he wanted to win, he wanted to win quickly, and he wanted to win absolutely. No appeals dragging on for years and bleeding the company dry.

And Mike... Well. All Harvey could say was that the kid was at his desk.

As he was contemplating whether or not anybody would notice he was sleeping if he rested his chin on his palm and pretended to be absorbed in his laptop, Donna strode briskly into his office.

"Yes?"

"What the _hell _ is wrong with you?" she announced, standing directly in front of his desk with her hands on her hips.

"Excuse me?" Even after her acts of suit-related heroism, Harvey was in no mood.

"What the hell is wrong with you that you think it's okay to say things like that to Mike just because you've had a little tiff, and you're cranky?" she demanded, beginning to tap her foot.

"It's not any of your business, Donna. Mike shouldn't have brought it up to you at all," Harvey retorted. It was a clear dismissal, but Donna didn't leave.

"I had to drag it out of him after he blatantly avoided my desk and your office for two straight days. Seriously? You essentially called him a slut over an argument about a _bicycle_?" Donna couldn't hide her shock, even under all of her indignation.

"No, I called him stupid over an argument about a bicycle. I called him a slut in an argument over a legal brief," Harvey informed her casually. He was nothing if not precise.

"You do realize how _insane_ that makes you sound, right? And that it makes him insane for putting up with it?" Donna's anger was starting to dissipate. Harvey was only this detached when he was actually wounded. She sank slowly into a chair, still peering cautiously at Harvey.

"He- I just- It was an awful thing to say," Harvey grumbled, his eyes feeling gritty as he blinked, "But he's so _stubborn_ and I'm just trying to do what's best for him."

"Says Harvey Specter," Donna chuckled a little, "You have to apologize. Yeah, Mike's a determined guy, but where exactly do you think he learned to hang on with his teeth the way he does now?"

Harvey sighed. It wasn't fair that Donna got to be right all the time _and_ have people still like her.

"Yeah, all right," Harvey fought the urge to run a hand through his hair, "I will."

"Good. First though, you should take a nap," she gestured vaguely at the couch, "I cleared the afternoon after the Quimby mess popped up. I'll tell everyone you have a migraine."

Harvey wanted to argue, but instead found himself nodding mutely.

"You owe me. So huge," Donna sing-songed out of his office, flicking off the lights on her way.

* * *

After finishing Louis' proofing, it had only taken Mike another hour in the library to figure out what Harvey had discovered the night before. With a precedent he could twist to his purposes, Mike started writing briefs.

He was still writing briefs at 9 p.m. when Harvey appeared at his desk, looking slightly... rumpled. Mike blinked, taking in the small crease in his collar, the odd puffiness to his hair, the wrinkles in the arms of his jacket.

"C'mon, Rookie. Let's get dinner," Harvey leaned against the wall of his cubicle, all nonchalance. Mike swallowed hard.

"I'm working."

"I see that, but I also see that you're working on my case. I'm the one telling you to drop it, and I'm your boss. So drop it," Harvey did his best to make it sound like more of a request.

"Have you been sleeping?" Mike changed the subject as he noted the distinct satisfaction in Harvey's eyes. There were exactly three things in the world that made Harvey's eyes look like that: winning a case, sex, and a solid night's sleep. There was only one important case in front of them, not won yet. Harvey had slept on a table the night before. The thought that maybe it was the second thing made a huge, hard lump rise in Mike's throat.

"I had a migraine," Harvey answered dismissively, "I took a quick nap in my office."

"You took a nap," Mike repeated slowly, "In your office."

"Yes," Harvey retorted, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"_That's_ why everybody was looking at me funny all afternoon," Mike mused, tapping a pen against his lips as he sat back in his chair.

"Why would anyone look at you funny because I was taking a nap?" Harvey was bemused.

"Harvey, when have you ever, _ever_ taken a nap in your office in the middle of the day before?"

"Never."

"Exactly. Whenever anything's going on with you nowadays, everyone just assumes it's my fault."

"Well it was your fault," Harvey retorted, and Mike's head cocked to one side.

"Excuse me?"

Harvey huffed. This... _apology_ was not going quite as planned.

"Can we just go get dinner, please?" he tried, doing his best not to sound whiney. Mike surveyed him for a long moment before agreeing.

"Yeah, all right." Mike stood and grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair before stooping to collect his messenger bag.

As he came around the wall of his cubicle, Harvey draped an arm of his shoulders. Mike stiffened, but didn't pull away.

* * *

They ate quietly. Italian. The restaurant was dimly lit and cozy. The table was small, although Mike was sure that wasn't the reason Harvey's knee kept bumping against his.

"Out with it," Mike demanded finally, setting aside his fork. Harvey almost choked on a hunk of eggplant parmesan.

"Out with what?" he managed, swallowing hard.

"You're telling me we're not going to talk about what you said last night, or the fact that I stormed out of the office?" Mike's tone was almost challenging. Harvey set down his fork and sipped at his wine before replying.

"I'm sorry about what I said. It was hurtful and untrue. There's no excuse for it. Do you forgive me?" Harvey was nothing if not direct.

"I don't know," Mike answered honestly, "It was a seriously screwed up thing to say."

"Leaving me to do your work alone until 3 in the morning wasn't punishment enough?" Harvey pressed, and Mike wanted to kick him in the shin.

"Me leaving had nothing to do with punishing you and everything to do with the fact that I couldn't even stand to look at you, right then," Mike shot back, his voice just a little too loud.

His words gave Harvey pause, and he reached for his wine glass again.

"All right," he murmured finally, "I can see I'm not forgiven. I'll settle the bill on the way out and see you in the morning."

Harvey drained his glass and set it on the table as he stood.

"Harvey," Mike voice was soft as he grasped Harvey's wrist, "Sit down. Finish your food. We're not done here."

Harvey didn't answer, just sank slowly back into his seat. Mike had returned his attention to his meal, almost cooing at his manicotti.

"I'm going to forgive you," Mike said finally, when he realized Harvey wasn't going to resume eating, "It's a foregone conclusion. I have almost no choice, really. At some point you're going to get sick of putting up with it, as my boss, and then we'll really be in a bind. Who knows, you might even fire me. I don't want to get fired. But my boss, my boyfriend, my mentor, whoever you are in any given moment? You don't get to talk to me like that. The fact that you would consider talking to me like that turns my stomach. The fact that that you _did_ talk to me like that makes me feel like I'm gonna puke if I think about it too hard."

Harvey toyed with the stem of his empty wine glass as Mike spoke, staring at his plate. He could feel Mike's eyes on him and it pained him, but he couldn't meet the look.

"I don't," Harvey cleared his throat around the lump he refused to acknowledge, "I don't want you to feel like you have to forgive me. You shouldn't if you don't want to. I'm not going to fire you."

"I do want to forgive you," Mike informed him earnestly, "I'm going to forgive you. The fact that you look so goddamn mopey right now isn't hurting your case."

"I do not look mopey," Harvey's eyes jerked up and he smiled a little at the playful smirk twisting the corners of Mike's lips.

"Maybe it's more like dejected.

Harvey scoffed, and returned to his food. Mike smiled in an extremely self-satisfied way at Harvey's lack of verbal response.

"Hey," Mike nudged Harvey's ankle with his foot. Harvey looked up, questioning.

"Can I catch a ride home with you?"


	4. Chapter 4

Not Mine. Don't sue

_Author's Note: I'm fully prepared for a few people to hate me. I think this is the end? I feel a little bad for not letting the boys wrap up their case, but shit happens. I suppose I could write an epilogue. Persuade me._

* * *

The reprieve didn't last long. The next morning found them in a cemetery, surrounded by the feuding family of Roger Milfore as his casket was lowered. Harvey was hissing at Mike under his breath.

"We need to talk to David," Harvey jerked his chin in the direction of Roger Milfore's son, sitting beside mother, "And his mother. He's a bigger threat than her, but they're in together, though their suits are separate."

"Harvey," Mike hissed back, "We're at a _funeral_."

"Has to be done," Harvey replied, "Let's go."

The ceremony had been small, and what few guests there were had begun to stand and disperse. Harvey cut through the crowd, Mike at his back.

"David," Harvey extended his hand, "I'm sorry for your loss."

David Milfore just stared at him.

"Get out of my face, Specter. You're trying to steal my father's company from me and you expect me to shake your hand at his funeral?" Milfore was incredulous. His mother stepped up to his side, a bowling ball of a women with a shrewd face. She eyed Mike, who had yet to say a word.

"I think it's time for you to go," When Margret spoke, her words were directed at Harvey, "Our attorneys aren't present, and this is clearly not the time or place."

She laid a protective hand on her son's arm and steered him away.

"I told you that was a bad idea," Mike mumbled as they headed for the car.

"If you're going to criticize, you could at least have the guts to do it at full volume," Harvey snapped, yanking open the car door and sliding in. Mike huffed and hurried around to the other side.

"I said I told you that was a bad idea," he repeated, shutting himself inside the car.

"Yes, Mike. That's very helpful of you," Harvey scowled, pulling out his cell phone.

"Well, what did you expect to happen, Harvey? David's always been a bit of an idiot, but Margret Milfore's no slouch. She wasn't going to let herself get bullied into dropping her case. Or letting David drop his. That's what the legal stuff is for, remember?" Mike had the audacity to sound a little exasperated. Harvey slowly swiveled his head to look Mike in the eyes.

"Thank you for that astounding piece of advice, Michael. I was fully aware we were going to get shut down, I just needed to affirm that they're in it together and to remind Margret Milfore that she doesn't scare me. I got rid of her once and I can do it again," Harvey explained slowly, his teeth clenched.

"Oh," Mike replied finally, "I didn't know."

"Clearly," Harvey's tone was still clipped, and it set Mike's teeth on edge. He turned to stare out the window for the ride back to Pearson-Hardman.

* * *

Things were not very much better six hours later over stir-fry on Harvey's couch. He was obsessing.

"Margret's the obstacle here. David's case is stronger but she's the lynch pin. I know where a few of her bodies are buried from back when she and Roger were partners in the business..." Harvey drifted off, setting aside his food to dig into the stack of files on the coffee table.

"Harvey," Mike turned to look up at him from his position on the floor, back against the couch legs splayed out under the table as he ate, "We're not at the office."

"Uh-huh." Harvey wasn't listening.

"The office stays at the office, just like 'us' stays at home. We agreed," Mike continued.

"Yes, and it's an agreement that we're so excellent at adhering to. We had a fight in the library, if you recall," Harvey replied absently, his nose in a file.

"I wasn't the one that made that non-work related, and you know it. Put the file down," Mike tried to pull it from Harvey's fingers, but Harvey just stood up to pace beside the windows.

"This is important, Mike, all right? It wouldn't kill you to help me out," Harvey lifted his head long enough to nod at the files still on the coffee table. Mike looked at the files, then up at Harvey, and then back at the files.

"No," he answered finally, getting to his feet and taking his plate to the kitchen. Harvey had rolled his eyes at Mike's answer, but Mike ignored it. He collected his suit jacket, bag, and bike helmet without Harvey noticing. In fact, he only looked up at the sound of the bike being lowered from the wall.

"Seriously? Again, with this?" Harvey gestured, looking irked.

"I don't want to get into a fight with you right now, Harvey. I _can't_. I'm not going to help you, and you're not going to stop working, so there's no point in my being here. I'll see you in the morning, all right?" Mike half-sighed, wheeling his bike towards the door.

Harvey wanted to nod and say fine and turn back to his files and call Mike an idiot in his head. The little voice in the back of his brain said that Mike was being perfectly reasonable, and that Harvey was the one in the wrong.

The voice that came out of his mouth said "Do whatever you like, Mike. Maybe you should take some more of stuff back to your place with you, since you won't be needing it here." Harvey's eyebrows rose with the implication in his words. He saw Mike paused at the door, one hand resting on the handle. He saw Mike lift his head and set his jaw and start to turn. He saw Mike's shoulders slump and the small shake of his head before he pulled the door open, walked his bike into the hallway, and came back to yank the door shut again.

* * *

He didn't see Mike at all the next morning. Proofed briefs showed up on his desk, complements of Donna. Who was also not speaking to him, of course. Harvey wasn't sure when she had become Mike's secretary and not his.

By three that afternoon, he'd completely had it. He stalked past Donna's desk and into the bullpen, snapping his fingers under Mike's nose over the wall of his cubicle. Mike's head jerked up and for one desperate moment Harvey thought he might start shouting.

"Yes?" Mike said tightly instead.

Turned out, it was Harvey that started yelling first.

"What the hell is the matter with you?"

"Whoa, Harvey," Mike stood slowly, raising one hand in a gesture of automatic surrender, "What-"

"You know perfectly well 'what!'" Harvey spat and Mike's eyes narrowed.

"Actually, no, Harvey, I don't! I have no goddamn idea what this could possibly be about. The briefs I had proofed and on your desk by nine a.m.? Or the fact that when I wouldn't let you pick a fight, you basically threw me out of your apartment? Or maybe it's got something to do with the fact that you've been an unreasonable, unprofessional, pompous _dickhead_ for the last three weeks. I'd be willing to bet it's the last one!" Mike glared at Harvey over the cubicle wall, hands balled into fists at his sides.

"It's about your piss poor fucking attitude, Mike! You don't get to lecture me, or send Donna after me when I hurt your feelings! You're twenty eight, not eight, so I'm going to need you to start acting like an adult!"

They were screaming at each other in the middle of the bullpen. Louis was watching gleefully from his doorway, and every associate on the floor had turned to stare. Donna looked horrified, but she knew better than to try and get in the middle of it.

"Being an adult is a little difficult with you trying to control my every move! 'I want you to get rid of the bike, Mike. Change your tie, Mike. Do something about your hair, Mike. Fruity Pebbles aren't a real breakfast, Mike.' Half the time you sound like my mother!"

Harvey opened his mouth to reply, but a stern, controlled voice cut him off.

"My office. Now. Both of you." Jessica was not to be trifled with and Harvey immediately turned on his heel to follow her, smoothing his face into blankness and ignoring the stares. Mike tailed a little behind with the decency to look a little shamefaced.

"What the _hell_ was that?" Jessica's door had barely closed behind them.

"It was unprofessional, Jessica," Harvey began, "I'm sor-"

"Save it, Harvey. It is becoming increasingly clear to me that you two are incapable of keeping your personal relationship out of the office, and frankly it astounds me. I except better, especially from you, Harvey," Jessica was reproachful, and Harvey stifled the urge to fidget under her stare.

"I'm not going to tolerate this kind of behavior. It's a week of unpaid leave for both of you, starting now. Go home, clear your heads, work this out, and don't come back to the office until it's settled," Jessica gestured towards the door, but Harvey protested.

"The Quimby case-" he began and she shook her head to shut him up.

"Louis will handle it," she assured him, and a look of disgust passed over Harvey's face.

"Louis can't-"

"He can and he is. Go _home_, Harvey," Jessica ordered, her patience worn to the bone. Harvey opened his mouth to argue some more, but closed it again when warm fingers clasped his wrist and dragged him from her office.

Harvey didn't speak until they had exited the building. He had long since ripped his arm from Mike's grasp, but had said nothing as they collected their things and rode down to the lobby.

"Let's go," he nodded towards the car waiting for them, but Mike hesitated.

"Maybe I should just go back to my place," Mike swallowed, "That was bad in there, Harvey. It was really, really bad. I don't know if we should even be alone together right now."

It was Harvey's turn to look a little horrified.

"Are you _afraid_ of me?"

"No! No, Harvey, you don't scare me," Mike sighed, "I'm just afraid that if we don't take a little time apart right now, we'll say things we'll regret later."

"I don't know, Jessica has me feeling properly chastised at the moment. If we wait too long to talk I'll just get more and more angry that she handed the Quimby case to Louis. Just... get in the car, Mike."

"Please," he tacked on after seeing the look on Mike's face. Slowly, Mike nodded.

"All right."

Nothing was said in the car. Mike ordered Chinese and they sat around Harvey's apartment in silence until it arrived. Then they sat around in Harvey's apartment in silence and ate. After that, they sat silently and stared at the television while a movie played on the screen.

"Are you watching this?" Mike finally asked.

"No."

Mike grabbed the remote and turned it off.

Harvey half turned to look at him. Mike swallowed.

"Harvey, we can't do this anymore."

Harvey felt himself nod, "I know."

"A relationship isn't a case, Harvey. You can't _win_ it. The whole point is that neither of us wins. The relationship wins, or we both lose."

"I know." Harvey's throat felt tight.

"I know I can't expect you to just... turn it off, Harvey. It's who you are, and I love you so goddamn much I thought that would be enough. But it isn't."

"I know." Harvey couldn't stand the way Mike was saying his name.

"We'll have to be normal about this at the office. I think the week off will help. And I can work for Louis for a while, if you want," Mike offered and Harvey felt himself nod again.

"Okay," he agreed flatly. Mike chewed on his lower lip for a moment before leaning in, kissing Harvey swift and hard, cradling Harvey's jaw in one hand.

"This isn't how I wanted it," Mike whispered, and then pulled away.

"I know," Harvey mumbled again, and Mike hung his head, looking away.

"Please, please say something. Anything. Just don't keep telling me you know, like this is how you expected it to turn out," Mike coughed, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat, "Please tell me you didn't do this to push me away."

Harvey couldn't even work up the energy to be revolted by the suggestion.

"No," he whispered, "I just... want what's best for you. And for me. I see now that this isn't what's best. Even if I want it to be."

Harvey sounded exhausted, and Mike wanted to cry but he knew he couldn't.

"All right. I think it'll be better if I just pack my stuff now. I have to take a cab home anyway, and I won't have to intrude on you again," he said instead, getting to his feet. A desperate part of him longed for Harvey to grab his hand, but the gesture wasn't forthcoming. Mike made his way slowly to the bedroom and he dragged a duffle bag from the closet. He couldn't remember if it was his or Harvey's, but he knew it didn't matter.

Harvey sat on the couch and listened to Mike pack. He could barely keep his eyes open, and he wasn't sure if it was because he was so goddamn tired, or because he couldn't watch Mike leave. When he finally slumped back and let his eyes close, sleep refused to come. He heard the Mike shuffling around, stuffing belongings into a bag. Heard the slow, even footsteps of Mike walking to the door. Heard the door open, and heard it close again.

Mike made it all the way to his apartment before he started bawling.

Harvey sat on his couch and stared at his ceiling all night.


	5. Epilogue

__Harvey would be so much more of a douche if Suits were mine. Alas, alas.

_Author's Note: I made somebody cry. Mission accomplished. (Why yes, I am an awful human being. You love it.) And thus, because really I'm not that bad, here's the epilogue. I apologize for any typos, I literally just finished writing this. Enjoy!_

* * *

Mike worked for Louis exclusively for nearly two months. The longest two months of his entire life, though it wasn't Louis' fault. Litt actually seemed a little sorry about how everything had ended up. It didn't keep him from ribbing Harvey about losing his cool in the bullpen, or mocking Mike for not even being able to sleep his way to the top properly, but he did seem to go out of his way to keep the two of them from having to interact.

It was the longest two months of Mike's life because every time he had to pass by Harvey's office, he couldn't lift his eyes from the carpet. He practically hid under his desk every time Harvey appeared in the bullpen to dump massive stacks of case files onto the desks of unsuspecting associates before setting outrageous time limits. Mike was pretty sure he wouldn't have been able to make it through the mountain Harvey assigned to Harold as he informed the baby-faced associate that he wanted everything proofed and back on his desk by the end of the day.

Harold looked like he might cry after Harvey stalked back to his office. Mike couldn't help himself, he lifted two thirds of the files off Harold's desk and retreated with them without a word.

"What the hell is this?" Harvey shoved a pile of proofed briefs into Mike's chest the next morning, before Mike even had a chance to get his coat off. Mike swallowed hard. Two months of silence, and now this.

"Briefs," he answered evasively, placing them carefully on his desk.

"Clearly, yes, Mike, they are briefs. They are briefs I assigned to Harold. Did you really think that after two years I wouldn't recognize something you'd gotten your hands on?" Harvey's eyebrows lifted dangerously, his mouth drawn into a tight line.

"Harold needed a hand," Mike mumbled, "I wasn't too busy, so I helped him out."

"My office. Now."

Mike seriously considered leaving the building instead. The city. The country. Instead his feet followed Harvey to his office. The look on Donna's face when she saw him trailing behind Harvey was almost worth it.

"What?" was all she hissed as Mike passed her desk, clearly utterly perplexed. It hadn't been a great two months for her either. Mike shrugged.

"He's mad at me, I think."

Donna rolled her eyes.

"He's mad at the world, Mike, because he finds it extremely difficult to be mad at himself."

"Mike! Let's go!" Harvey barked from inside his office. Mike squared his shoulders and stepped inside. In an instant, everything he'd missed in two months of avoiding looking at Harvey hit him like a brick to the face.

The gape at the neck of his usually impeccably tailored collar. The deep, dark circles under his eyes. The distinct slope in his shoulders. Mike wondered vaguely if he looked that bad too.

"Yes, Mr. Specter?" Mike didn't know what else to say. He was a little surprised he'd managed that. To his complete amazement, Harvey threw himself into his desk chair and sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. Was Mike mistaken or was that... stubble? It was barely 8 a.m.

"This has got to stop," Harvey announced finally and Mike blinked at him.

"Uh, I don't-"

"You're not stupid, Mike, even when you do your best to be oblivious. I can't have this anymore, you working for Louis and pretending like you don't even see me. I want you back," Harvey didn't mince words, he was too exhausted to care.

"That's not goi-"

"In the completely professional sense of the phrase, Mike. I hired you, you're my associate, I would like your legal mind back," Harvey loosed a pained sigh and dropped his gaze, "And I need your help."

Mike was quiet for a long time, but Harvey didn't press. The associate rocked back and forth from the balls of his feet to his heels, for a little while just staring at Harvey. When he spared a glance around at the office, he was a little shocked to realize it wasn't exactly as pristine as he remembered. In fact, it looked like a tornado had hit it. Files were strewn about, pages pushed around apparently willy-nilly. Highlighters, pens, a stapler, and what Mike was almost sure was a three hole punch underneath the couch. Mike swallowed, his eyes falling on Harvey again.

He looked... lost. His office was a chaotic mess, his files were spread around to so many associates that nothing was getting finished and half of everything was getting misplaced. Donna could only put out so many fires before they reached Harvey's door, and she was looking haggard too. In the end, Mike didn't actually agree. He simply started moving around the room to collect papers, reorganize files, and frankly make it look a little more like the office he remembered.

"Donna," he murmured softly, sticking his head out the door, "Do me a favor?"

"Anything," Donna had been so relieved to see him piling folders back into boxes that she didn't even think to bargain.

"Go to the bullpen and get whatever idiots Harvey passed his files around to, to cough them up. I need _all _ of it," Mike requested. Donna was on her feet before he finished speaking.

"Done. Mike?" she paused, halfway out from behind her desk.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

Mike smiled a little, and then shrugged ruefully.

"It took him long enough to ask."

Mike pulled his head back into Harvey's office and resumed organizing. It took him nearly an hour, but finally he had everything collated and back in its proper manila folder. Harvey didn't say a word the entire time Mike worked. He barely even said anything when Donna appeared at the door, lugging two more boxes of files. He rose and took them from her, mumbling something that sounded sort of like "thanks," and then placed the boxes next to the couch. Mike was ensconced there, two highlighters in his left hand and another in his mouth as he devoured briefs.

"Mike?" It was well past lunch when Harvey finally seemed to wake up, actually shaking himself a little bit as he sat up.

"Yeah?" Mike didn't look up, too absorbed in what he was reading. Harvey opened his mouth and then shut it again, pushing back whatever he had started to say. Mike didn't notice.

Harvey tried again.

"What do you want for lunch?"

That threw Mike for a loop. "What time is it?" he asked, looking around.

"After two. Sandwiches or something?" Harvey suggested. He hadn't been able to eat Chinese takeout since what he had started referring to privately (i.e., in his head) as The Disaster. Looking back on it, Harvey didn't even recognize the person he'd been that night. Hell, the person he'd been that month. He'd fought over every stupid little thing, and then not at all when it counted. He'd carried on like a temperamental teenager, throwing tantrums and doing everything in his power to push Mike away without even realizing how ludicrous his behavior had become.

He didn't recognize the person he'd been since, either. The Harvey of the last two months had been practically apathetic. He didn't care which associate got their hands on his cases. Didn't bother to respond to Louis' almost constant mocking. Dragged his ass into the office hours late. Ignored reproachful, and then irritated, and then worried looks from both Donna and Jessica. Tried his damndest to ignore that Mike was ignoring him. Harvey felt a little like he was living under the bell jar.

And he _hated_ Plath. Except, Mike was back in _his_ office, on _his_ couch, nose buried in _his_ files. The world had righted itself. Mostly.

"Sounds fine. No weird cheese," Mike scrunched his nose, and Harvey chuckled. It was a slightly rusty sound, but Mike made no comment.

"Neophyte," Harvey remarked mildly, "Donna?"

"Yes, Boss?"

"Sandwiches. Whatever you feel like having. Nothing too pretentious."

That made Mike laugh outright. Harvey didn't realize there'd been a desperate, lingering, months-long ache in his chest until Mike's scoffing, genuine laughter soothed it.

"Says Harvey Specter," Mike chortled to himself, flipping a page.

"Mike."

Something in Harvey's voice made Mike look up, and their eyes met for the first time in what suddenly felt like an eternity.

"Yeah?" Mike almost squeaked, quashing his urge to fidget.

"I'm sorry. I mishandled everything. All of it. There's no excuse-"

"It's all right, Harvey," Mike interrupted, not liking the pinched feeling in his stomach Harvey's words caused.

Harvey shook his head.

"It's not all right. I made a complete ass of myself, and I continued to do so even after you had the dignity to walk away from the situation. I never had the right to run your life, but I convinced myself it was for your own good. I was wrong, and I'm sorry." Harvey's question was implicit.

"I forgive you. I forgave you a month and a half ago. So, friends?" Mike hadn't budged from his spot on the couch, but he didn't have to. The look in Mike's wide blue eyes as he craned his neck to look towards Harvey told him everything he needed to know.

For a second, Mike was sure Harvey was going to say something snarky about them never having been friends. Instead, he just smiled and nodded vaguely.

"For now."

Harvey laughed and ducked when Mike threw a highlighter at his head, his associate (_his _associate) mumbling "Ass" under his breath.


End file.
